A Sorcerer's Wand
by Bellatree
Summary: A story from a different point of view: A wand.


**A/N: Hello there, this is my first HP fic, I usually write stuff for A Series of Unfortunate Events, but this is something I was working on quite a while ago, and I just recently found it and edited it so it was better. Hope you like it! **

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**A Sorcerer's Wand.**  


It's all my fault.

I should've known from the start, I should've done something about it.  
If I knew-back then-what was going to happen, I could've done something, _anything_ to stop it.  
But no, I was too blind, too _conceited_ to see anything. I was nothing like my brother; he was the humble one, the noble one, but I, being older, thought of myself as high and mighty, I thought I was all-powerful (And I was too.)

I sensed powerful magic in young Tom Riddle, and I thought it was my chance to be glorified!  
So I took my chance, I took my chance and held it high above my head. I drew Ollivander to me. My brother and I were the only ones who knew how to do it, although my brother never would. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't care, I thought I was 'above' the law.  
That first time Tom Riddle held me, I felt his powerful magic, and I knew we would do great things, I knew it. People would look up to us, to _me_, and I could prove once and for all that I was better than my brother.

Unfortunately I no longer influence my master, he has control of me. My brother tried to warn me, but I just thought he wanted all the glory for himself.  
Once Tom Riddle-under his new name: Lord Voldemort-had control of me, he made me do horrible things. I've seen more suffering than most would've.  
He's had me kill, torture, and control numerous amount of people; wizards, witches, muggles, even children and animals!

As I said; I knew we would do great things, but I just didn't know they would be terrible.

It started with a few childish pranks, then turned to more serious acts, I just laughed the whole way through, and didn't notice any changes until I was made to kill someone. Then I knew that something had gone wrong, that I'd done wrong, but I had no choice now; I had to do as my master willed, and I hated myself for it.

I vowed to myself that if I ever had the chance, I would do something, _anything_ to stop, or hinder my master. One day, that chance came.

The night I was reunited with my brother.

I heard things over the years, whispers, and rumours of a Harry Potter. I remembered him too: I couldn't kill him when he was a baby boy, and I was elated.  
Harry Potter sounded like a powerful wizard, and I knew that if anyone could stop my master, it would be him.

One night we were in a graveyard. I knew why we were there, but I was still surprised when Harry Potter and Cederic Diggory came tumbling, out of nowhere, it seemed.  
He made me kill Cederic; it wasn't even my own master who made me do it, it was that hideous Wormtail, I shudder when I think of him, think of him touching me, controlling me.

After the…process was completed, and I was back in my master's hand, I saw Harry Potter face-to-face, and was torn apart with pain, and regret at what I'd done to him.  
I'd killed his parents, made his life miserable, my master made me do it, but still, he couldn't have done it without me.

I didn't know how, but I knew that tonight was my chance.

My master taunted young Harry Potter; he ridiculed him, and mocked him in front of the servants, the _death eaters_.  
It was only when I saw Harry Potter take up his wand that I knew what I had to do, that my chance had come, I could never be glorified now, no, but I could undo some things, right a few wrongs.

My chance came the moment my brother and I connected. When the boy's wand connected with the man's, and power surged through them both. I felt the power in my brother, it was strong, no doubt as strong as I, but the force behind the wand could not contend with my master's. Lord Voldemort was fuelled by pure hatred, malice, spite, revenge, but Harry Potter was not capable of pure hatred. He had too much good in his heart to truly hate someone as my master did. I knew that Harry Potter was no match for my master, so I fought, I fought with every ounce of my being, I couldn't let Harry Potter die, I couldn't kill him, I _couldn't!_ But it was so hard, I couldn't fight against my master's will, my strength alone was not enough to save the young boy.

I did the only other thing I could do, even if it shamed me in front of my brother to do it, buthe had to help me anyway.  
Together we worked, abandoning all past conflicts and joining our two powers together.

Then they came.  
Eerie half-beings. Ghosts, sprits, illusions, whatever they were, I knew they would give Harry the strength to fight. It almost felt forgiving, as these spirits came out of me, for once I knew I was doing something good, and it was the best feeling I ever had.  
They gave Harry the strength to fight, for the time being.

It was the greatest feeling of relief when my brother and I finally disconnected, I knew that we'd helped to save Harry Potter, and I knew that if anyone could, he could defeat my master.

I saw Harry disappear, along with the body of young Cedric Diggory. That was the last I saw of him for a while, but I knew that next time we met, he'd be stronger, and that as every day passed, he'd grow tougher, and would be one day closer to defeating my master.

Good luck, Harry Potter.

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End file.
